The Catalyst
by TrulyShadowKissed
Summary: He was left broken and abused on his own living room floor. Companion piece to All My Life but can be read alone.
1. The Catalyst

**Disclaimer: I do not own Edward or Jasper. (tear)**

**Warning: Depicts a violent sex act. Who am I kidding? It IS a violent sex act. Don't like, don't read. **

**This is sort of a prequel for my story, All My Life. I mention this scene in Ch.2 and while I was writing it I was already thinking of this scene.**

**The Catalyst**

Tuesday.

Reports. After the whole education process was through, I thought I'd never have to see one ever again. I guess I should have chosen a different career path, then. The life of a high school history teacher has its downs, but I do truly love it.

I was in the middle of reading my hundredth paper on the Civil War for my second period class. I had been putting off grading them until it was absolutely necessary. But every single one said the same exact thing. It's like they thought I wouldn't be able to tell that they'd just copied it out of the book. At the very least they could have changed a word here and there.

I sighed and placed the paper I was grading back on the table, the white of the paper now stained with red ink. I removed my reading glasses and rubbed my eyes. This part of the job is always draining.

I carelessly tossed my glasses next to the huge pile of papers that I have yet to grade, happy I didn't accidentally knocked them over. The pile seems to grow every time I look at it. I know that's impossible, but it was late and I was beginning to think anything was possible.

Suddenly there's a noise from my front room. The sound of a door closing resonates throughout the apartment. Before I can even contemplate the possibility that this is a robbery, there's someone on me. He seems to have sprinted from the front room to where I was sitting on my couch. His body forces me off the couch and onto the floor, their body landing atop mine. His lips aggressively attack mine. As I begin to struggle, he grab one of my wrists and pins it to the floor. As my other arm swings out to attempt to push the assailant off me, he easily grabs it with his other hand. I am now completely pinned to the floor, helpless. I wouldn't say that I'm weak, but in comparison to my aggressor, I feel incompetent.

I continue to fight against the body on top of me as his lips hungrily devour mine. He attempts to thrust his tongue into my mouth and I bite his lower lip. Hard.

This seems to anger him and he retaliates with a bite of his own. I release a groan of pain and he takes advantage, shoving himself into my mouth.

His full weight on top of me minimizes the amount of air that can successfully reach my lungs. My struggles become less and less effective as it becomes harder and harder to breathe. My lungs burn and my heart aches as it frantically tries to pump non-existent air through my bloodstream.

My body goes limp and my thoughts become more and more scattered. I'm beginning to see black spots and I feel as if I've become nothing more than static. I try to prevent myself from loosing consciousness, afraid of what he might do to me.

With the last bout of energy in me, I push against him. It's a frail attempt at best, but he thankfully moves his lips from mine. He now trails his lips down my jaw, my neck, all the way to my collarbone. The slight shift in his weight allows a minute change in the amount of air that reaches my lungs.

I try to concentrate on my breathing, but the panic is just now setting like a vortex in the pit of my stomach.

My mind is racing and the uncertainty if it all is driving is driving me to paranoia. _Is he going to rape me? Or worse?_ No matter how hard I try I can't seem to get my thoughts straight.

But one thought resonates throughout my head louder than the others.

Fight.

And that's what I do. I can feel the adrenalin racing through my blood, setting me on fire.

I resume my struggle tenfold. I am flailing ridiculously, but all I care about right now is getting this invader off me.

He is still nipping my neck and as he feels me struggling underneath him, he bites down hard on the nape of my neck.

A pained moan leaves my lips. Yet oddly, only one thought circulated through my mind.

W_ill he stop biting me?!_

It is a thought of frustration. You would think I'd be angry that he is hurting me, but really, it's just getting on my nerves. I know it's a ludicrous thought to have at a time like this, but I can't help but think of the marks he must be leaving.

He moves down to my ear, and what he whispers next will forever be engraved into my mind.

"Will you stop struggling?"

It comes out as a growl, his irritation clear.

It's not his words that shock me, but the voice. I know that voice. I love that voice.

My struggles are instantly ceased. My mind is reeling with this new information. This man, this man that has treated me so brutally and has instilled more fear in me than I care to put into words, is the man I love.

I feel as if someone has just torn my whole world apart. I can't even distinguish the feelings that have swept over every inch of my being.

_Edward, how could you do this to me?_

He noticed my struggles halt and takes the opportunity to strip my shirt from me. He yanks it roughly over my head and discards it somewhere on my living room floor.

My mind refuses to process what has just occurred and I have no choice but to lie there while he yanks my jeans over my hips, pulling my boxers with them.

I now lay completely naked on the cold hard wood floors of my living room. I feel exposed, raw, both physically and emotionally.

I do not attempt to move in any way. I feel so fragile, as if the simplest of touch will cause me to break.

Edward seems to understand that I have lost the willpower to fight him and begins to remove his own shirt. It is only once he is only in his boxers that I pull together the strength needed to ask the one question that has been plaguing me since I discovered his identity.

"Why?"

I ask the question so quietly that I worry he hasn't heard it. He gives no indication that he has. As I try to gather myself to ask again, he replies.

"I need you, Jasper."

His usually smooth, deep voice comes out rough and ragged. This one statement has the power to completely turn my world upside down.

That's all he says. Simply, that he needs me. Before I can even think of a way to respond to that, he's on me again, kissing my lips with a renewed passion.

I'm so undecided of how this should carry on.

_Should I just let him use me?_

I sneer at the thought. It makes me feel dirty just thinking about that option. But I'm not sure if I truly have the resolve needed to deny him. _Especially after a statement like that._

Some time while I was deep in thought, he removed his last piece of clothing. The feel of his skin on mine is such a familiar sensation that I can almost delude myself into believing that he hadn't just assaulted me. But that's not something that can easily be forgotten.

He trails kisses down my chest and I can't ignore the rush of pleasure it brings me. His hands are running down my side, feeling the sharp angles of my chest. I am lulled into a pleasurable haze, he has made his way all the way down my chest and is now laying on his stomach between my legs, kissing along the V of my hips. I am rudely awakened from my self induced denial when he, once again, sinks his teeth into the skin of my hip, right at my hip bone. He sucks the flesh into his mouth, surely leaving a mark.

When the night is over I am unsure if the bruises he leaves on me will be a pleasant reminder of our time together or a harsh reminder that I am merely an object to be used and disposed of.

By this point I know that I do not have the will to turn him away, to ask him to leave, or even struggle against him.

I love this man with all my heart. When he says he needs me, he can have me. Nonetheless it fills me with sadness; to know that I am merely a form of comfort, that he feels no love for me, no respect.

He's makes his way back up my body and I can now feel him in between my legs. I know he in not in a gentle mood, but I had hoped for at least a little compassion.

All the muscles in my body are clenched, awaiting the pain. I wrap my arms around his neck, wanting to feel his closeness, hoping it will soothe me. His hands caress my thighs for the smallest of moments. He spreads my slightly bent legs and hitches them over his waist. As he slowly enters me, his hands land on my hips. One of his hands right over the spot he has earlier bitten.

A cry leaves my lips as he pushes in a little further. He didn't so much as prep me. The friction is painful and my nails dig into his shoulder. He mumbles something into my chest, but before I can even think on it his hot mouth encloses over my nipple. A spark runs through my body as his tongue swirls around its hardened peak. A small moan leaves my lips and it's almost enough to distract me from the pain.

I can feel him stretch me as he continues forward. The pain seems to continue on forever, it's a constant ache. My inner muscles constrict around him as he stills, fully inside me.

My head is thrown back and a layer of sweat has covered my body. My hands are still firmly placed on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. I almost hope it breaks his skin, just to make him feel some of the pain he has inflicted on me.

He slowly withdraws just to thrust back in, fast and hard. Another cry leaves my lips and he covers my mouth with his, cutting off the sound of my scream. I eagerly return the heated kiss, wishing to do anything to subdue the agony that now resonates through my body. He continues to thrust in and out of me as a brutal pace. Our heavy breathing and the sound of our slightly damp skin coming together are the only sounds in the room.

The pain soon dulls, becoming a distant ache. The feel of Edward, his beautiful, toned body again mine, causes my heart to beat painfully in my chest.

Pleasure shoots through me as Edward hits my prostate at the perfect angle, hitting it repeatedly. Now instead of cries of pain, moans of ecstasy leave my lips. I start lifting my hips, allowing me the slightest control over Edward's thrusts.

My lips trail down his defined jaw until I reach the nape of his neck. I then suck the skin in between my teeth and suck. I take satisfaction in the thought that I am marking him as he has marked me.

He repeatedly hits my prostate and the pleasure that is consuming my body threatens to shallow me. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold off.

His thrusts become more erratic and as his lips fuse with mine in a fervent kiss full of need. Our mouths are torn apart and pulled back together at an ardent speed. He bites down on my tender bottom lip and when he releases it, his mouth leaves mine all together. He makes his way to my ear for the second time tonight. But unlike the first time, what he whispers in my ear doesn't bring my world to an end.

"Come for me now, Jasper."

It isn't a sweet nothing, not even close, but it is the best I could've hope for. His voice is so full of authority; it sends a shiver up my spine.

He had timed his command with his thrusts and the added pleasure of his voice along with his movements pushes me over the edge. As my orgasm tears through me, Edward continues to pound into me until he finally releases into me with a cry of pleasure.

As we lie on my hard wood floors, breathing heavily and sweat covering our naked bodies, we don't touch. We simply lay side by side, chests heaving. I can't help but wonder what this means for both me and Edward. And I'm petrified to find the answer.

I open my mouth to ask the question at least a dozen times over the span of half an hour. Each time, my jaw snaps together as if an otherworldly force is driving me into silence.

Our breathing has now been even for a while and we continue to just lay there, neither of us making a move for our clothes. My mind has been racing through every insignificant moment of tonight, trying to find meaning, trying to find tenderness, in our violent acts. I wonder on the single caressing touch right before he entered me. I wonder what it was he mumbled into my chest. Above all, I wonder what he meant when he said he needed me. Was he only talking about my body, the need to loose himself in our act, or did he mean something more? There are no answers here, only endless questions.

Suddenly Edward stands from next to me. I pull myself up, only able to support my weight on my elbows before the pain stops me from raising any further. I watch as he searches for his clothes, slipping only his pants on.

"Edward?"

I know he can hear the question in my voice. He ignores it and continues his hunt. Once it appears he has found everything, he simply turns and leaves. He leaves without a single word, not even looking back.

He hasn't even asked if I'm okay.

My body slumps back onto the floor. I am now left broken and abused on my own living room floor. I shake my head at the irony. I had entrusted him with so much. And he had just broken it.

I could feel something in me crack at that moment. Broken sobs escape my lips in painful gasps and everything but the overwhelming pain leaves my body. I no longer care that I am naked and shivering on the floor. I just lay there and sob. I'm not sure how long I lay there, unable to have a single thought, before I am able to pull myself together and drag myself to bed.


	2. The Morning After

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just enjoy manipulating S. Meyer's characters to my will.**

**AN: I have decided to make this into a short story. The events of Ch.1 occurs 3 days before the start of All My Life, so their will only be a couple chapters.**

**The Morning After**

Wednesday.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Be…

My arm swings out, stopping the alarm before it can complete its fourth wail. For some reason my body feels lethargic, not even wanting to move a muscle. It's very unlike me. Usually the first thing I do in the morning is stretch, trying to work out all the kinks I'd acquired in sleep.

After a minute, I decide it's time to get out of bed, less risk falling back asleep. The moment I attempt to literally roll out of bed, a sharp pain shoots through my body. I instantly freeze, sucking in a deep breath. The pain is immense and my muscles spasm. The pain is paralyzing. I have no time to catch myself as I continue to roll off the bed.

I land on the floor with a thud and the pain intensifies. The pain reverberates through my body. The pain is sharp as it laps at my body is waves. I work to steady my breathing as I lay there. For long moment that seem to last a lifetime, I try to empty my mind of everything. Who I am. Where I am. Why I feel this pain. Who inflicted it. I force all these thoughts from my mind until I'm sure I am no longer myself.

As the pain rescinds, I become painfully aware that I am naked. I can feel my bare skin again the soft carpet of my bedroom. I try to concentrate solely on the softness beneath me as the events of last night flash through my mind. My fingers try desperately to hold on to something. Anything. They form fists as they try to dig into the unrelenting ground. I can feel as my nails catch on the fabric beneath me and fail to hold.

I feel as if I'm experiencing everything all over again. I can feel my surprise at hearing the front door. I can feel my fear as a body pins me to the floor. I can feel my panic as the attacker attaches their lips to mine. I can feel my resolve as I fight back. I can feel my shock as I find out the identity of the assailant. I can feel my heart break as he starts removing my clothes. I can feel my pain as he enters me. I can feel my desperation as I try to rationalize. I can feel my resignation as I finally allow him to do as he pleases.

I feel hollow and I feel as if my body is no longer a part of my being. I simply lie there doing my best to block the memories. They run through my head like rampant horses, bringing me immeasurable pain as they trample all over my heart.

I force myself to stand, wanting nothing more than to forget the thoughts that plague my mind. My legs wobble like a new born calf as I gain my footing. I grasp at the wall as I wait for them to stabilize themselves. I think for a moment and decide a shower would be most beneficial; willing to do anything to soothe the ache that goes down to my very bones. I start to limp towards the bathroom, the ache between my legs anything but pleasant.

As I enter my bathroom, I suddenly wish I had a bathtub. I can almost imagine what it would feel like to slowly ease my body into a tub of steaming water, to feel as my muscles would slowly relax as the heat permeated my skin and soothed my soul.

I bypass the mirror, not wanting to see what I look like. I sure feel like shit, I can only imagine what I look like.

I go straight to the shower and turn the faucet a little hotter than I'd normally like it, but I know I'll appreciate it later.

I have no clothes to remove so I simple stand there, trying to move as little as possible. My legs feel weak but I force them to stay upright beneath me. I feel cold even as the water from the shower fills the room with steam.

After a minute I put my hand under the steady stream of water and am thankful it has already warmed up.

I step in and immediately feel some relief as the steamy water rolls down my body. My muscles tremor pleasantly as I tilt my head forward. I allow the water to hit my face and soak my hair. The rivulets running down my sides refresh me far more than they should. I feel as if I have been wandering in a desert for decades and am experiencing rain for the very first time.

I place an arm on the wall and lean my head upon it, angling myself so the water is aimed directly at my back. It hurt, almost as if it is burning my flesh. My eyes automatically close and the air leaves my lungs. My back arches steeply against the excruciating feeling, but I force myself to remain unmoving. After a moment of painful necessity, my aching muscles start to relax and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I still haven't opened my eyes, afraid to look at my body. I quickly busy myself with washing my hair.

The familiar smell of my shampoo soothes me and I almost feel at peace. At that moment, it's easy to believe that everything is normal, that nothing has changed. That is, until I move my arm at the wrong angle and pain shoots down my spine. My arms instantly shoot out to the wall for support. I am forced to remain like this for a moment before I feel safe in the fact that I won't fall. The pain is unbearable and all I want to do is cry. The release of tear would be a welcome reprieve from this agonizing pain. But I steel myself and refuse to allow myself to cry, I refuse to show more weakness.

My muscles have once again clenched, making it painful to move. I'm disgusted at how vulnerable I feel, almost fragile. I decide to just rinse out the shampoo, not wanting to risk this happening again. I will not allow my weakness to show. Not even to myself.

My muscles aren't as inclined to relax as they once were. Even as the hot water runs down my body I have to make a physical effort to unclench them, especially those in my legs. I hate how unstable I feel.

At this point, I just want the shower to be done with. I grab the bar of soap and lather in up. It's then that I notice my wrists. I drop the soap and stare at my arms in horror. On the inside of my wrists, going all the way down to my mid arm, are deep purple bruises where Edward's hands had restrained me. I can even make out the shape of each individual finger. The outside of my wrist is no better. It seems that as I struggled, Edward had put enough pressure on my arm to rub the skin raw.

I stare at them in disgust for a good couple minutes before I tear my eyes from them. I hastily bend down and retrieve the soap, ignoring the pain it causes. I rub it along my arms and am once again pulled into a sense of security. A false sense of security.

As I start to rub it against my toned stomach, I noticed a light bruise in the middle of my chest, probably where Edward had hit in order to force me to the ground. And then their was the bite mark at my hip. I had thought that it would just look like any hickey, but I was mistaken. His teeth had broken the skin and it was starting to scab over. A rim of light bruising surrounding it, making it look even more gruesome.

My emotions are starting to take over and I know I have to get out of here. Now. I quickly rinsed myself off and exit the shower. I wrap a towel securely around my waist and grab another to dry my hair.

I go to my mirror, no where near ready to fully see myself, but doing it anyway. I wipe the steam off with closed eyes. When I open my eyes everything seems normal. At first glance. My blonde hair, darkened with water, is still curly and chaotic. My skin is still pale and toned. But then I started to see the differences. My full bottom lip is split, the cut clearly visible. My before unblemished skin is now marred with more light bruising then I had previously thought. Aside from my wrist, stomach, and hip, I also have bruises sporadically placed along my legs and abdomen. I couldn't even begin to tell you what they were from. Well I could, but I really didn't want to think about it.

I sneer at my reflection, slowly shaking my head from side to side. _I can't believe I let him do this to me_. I bring my hand up to my face and lightly graze my split lip with the pad of my thumb. It stings but it's not too bad. Hopefully it'll heal in a few days.

I start looking closer and I'm amazed at the damage afflicted to my body. My eyes are immediately drawn to the bite mark on my neck. It looks about the same as the one on my hip, maybe a little worse. This one is going to be the most challenging. I can't go to work with this. All my other bruises can be easily hidden beneath clothes. But this? What would my students think if they saw my bloody lip and the bite mark on my neck? No one is going to believe that I got bitten by a rabid animal. I sigh, completely frustrated.

I think quickly. First I need to call in to work and tell them I can't come in. A 24-hr flu? That'll work. I steel away my emotions and grab my phone which lies on my bedside table. I scroll down until I reach the number labeled "Hell Hole". It rings and the receptionist, a friendly girl no older than me by the name of Alicia, picks up. I rattle off my lame excuse, even adding in a cough. It sounds fake to my own ears, but she doesn't inquire further. She tells me to get better soon and to not worry about it. I hang up, glad she didn't question me. If she had any intelligence, she would have been able to tell that I was lying, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So much has happened in such a short span of time. I have no idea how I'm still functioning, no less talking and thinking intelligently.

With that over with, I allow myself to fall backwards onto my bed. I feel as if I've been worn past my breaking point and there is no going back. I stare up at my ceiling for a good while, contemplating my next move. I finally make a decision and pull myself up so I'm sitting on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

I take a deep breath and pick up my phone to make the second call of the day.

I type in the number I've had memorized since my freshman year of college and wait. On the second ring the person I long to speak to picks up.

"Jasper!"

The voice on the other end seems overly happy to me, but it may just be because my mood is so dark it could make a shadow seem blinding.

With as much volume as I can muster, which isn't much, I choke out a single sentence.

"Alice, I need you."


End file.
